The magic implanted into young minds which sparks imaginations usually begins with the songs, games and stories we are introduced to from our earliest interactions. For most of us, this is rooted in the bonds and stories we share with our mothers through birth, or by choice.
In our earliest years, our mothers are generally—and generously—the source behind every need met: food, touch, comfort, love. As we grow, they weave into us a childhood of stories and experiences—hopefully more with laughter than tears. Then, they send us off with faith in our ability to go forward into the world to find and tell our own stories.
When much of the larger world seems lacking in these core sentiments, our mothers keep us rooted in what matters most in life. Their constancy comprises so much of who each of us are that we carry them within us through a rich tapestry of traditions, food, faith and memories. Inevitably, we find our mother's stories deeply woven into our lives and who we have become.
Stories are meant to be shared and carried on for each generation moving forward. When our collective stories are told without the voices of women, we are missing a large portion of our human experience. On this Mother's Day, here's to the mothers and women who have woven their stories into me as a writer, and here's to the writers and dreamers who share the stories of our human experiences as women.